--- base_model: DavidAU/L3.1-MOE-8X8B-Dark-Planet-8D-Mirrored-Chaos-Uncensored-47B language: - en library_name: transformers quantized_by: mradermacher tags: - mergekit - moe - mixture of experts - merge - 8x8B - 128k context - Llama3 MOE - creative - creative writing - fiction writing - plot generation - sub-plot generation - fiction writing - story generation - scene continue - storytelling - fiction story - science fiction - romance - all genres - story - writing - vivid prosing - vivid writing - fiction - roleplaying - bfloat16 - swearing - rp - horror - mergekit pipeline_tag: text-generation --- WARNING: NSFW. Vivid prose. INTENSE. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. GORE. Swearing. UNCENSORED... humor, romance, fun.

L3.1-MOE-8X8B-Dark-Planet-8D-Mirrored-Chaos-Uncensored-47B

AKA: "The Death Star at 128k context, more uncensored." It is a LLama3.1 model, max context of 128k (131,000) using mixture of experts to combine EIGHT unreleased versions of "Dark Planet" models of 8B each into one massive powerhouse at 47B parameters (equal to 64B - 8 X 8 B). This model's instruction following, and output generation for creative writing, prose, fiction and role play are exceptional. It excels at description, dialog, imagery, metaphors, and prose - and shows great variations in sentence / paragraph size, length, and composition. It is also not afraid, and will not pull its punches. And it has a sense of humor too. It can do horror just as easily as it can do romance. Most notably dialog is very "un-ai" like, combined with prose (short, and terse at times). (lots of different examples below, including 2, 3 and 4 experts and different genres) Model can be used also for all genres (examples below showing this). This model has been designed to be relatively bullet proof and operates with all parameters, including temp settings from 0 to 5. It is an extraordinary compressed model, with a very low perplexity level (lower than Meta Llama3 Instruct). It is for any writing, fiction or roleplay activity. It requires Llama3 template and/or "Command-R" template. Example outputs below. Model Notes: - Detail, prose and fiction writing abilities are OFF THE SCALE relative to all combined Dark Planet 8B models. - For more varied prose (sentence/paragraph/dialog) raise the temp and/or add more instructions in your prompt(s). - Role-players: Careful raising temp too high as it may affect instruction following. - This model works with rep pen of 1 or higher, 1.02+ recommended. - If you want a specific type of prose (IE horror) add in "(vivid horror)" or "(graphic vivid horror)" (no quotes) in your prompt(s). - A lot of GPTisms have been removed. There are still a few however - errrrr. - This is not a "happy ever after" model. It has a negative bias. - Output length will vary however this model prefers long outputs unless you state the size. - For creative uses, different quants will produce slightly different output. - Due to the high stability and compressed nature of this model, all quants will operate at above average levels. - If you use rope to extend context, increase temp AND instructions detail levels to compensate for "rope issues". - Source code for this model and Imatrix GGUFs versions will be uploaded shortly at separate repos. Meet the Team: Mixture of Experts Models This model is based on the original "Llama 3 Dark Planet 8B" (GGUF / SOURCE) merge that has been "evolved" several times. Each "evolved" version is then tested, if it is unique and/or removes certain negative attibutes and/or enhances certain positive attibutes, it is kept otherwise it is deleted. This model contains the EIGHT ("cr2", "cr1", "r7", "r6", "b3", "b4", "r1" and "b6") best models from this process, with the very best as a "captain" of the "MOE" so to speak. None of these versions have ever been released, but contain the "raw source DNA" of the original model. This process was first explored in the WORDSTORM Project In addition model: [ https://huggingface.co/aifeifei798/DarkIdol-Llama-3.1-8B-Instruct-1.2-Uncensored ] Was used to in a merge with the "Captain" of the MOE to both decensor the model more, and give it 128k context. The mixture of experts is set at 4 experts, but you can use 1, 2 ... 3 or 4 ... up to 8. The default in this model is 4 experts. This "team" has a Captain (first listed model), and then all the team members contribute to the to "token" choice billions of times per second. Note the Captain also contributes too. Think of 2, 3 or 4 master chefs in the kitchen all competing to make the best dish for you. This results in higher quality generation. That means the power of every model is available during instruction and output generation. This brings unparalleled power to all forms of generation and all use cases. NOTE: You can use one "expert" too ; however this means the model will randomly select an expert to use EACH TIME, resulting in very different generation for each prompt / regen of a prompt. CHANGING THE NUMBER OF EXPERTS: You can set the number of experts in LMStudio (https://lmstudio.ai) at the "load" screen and via other apps/llm apps by setting "Experts" or "Number of Experts". For Text-Generation-Webui (https://github.com/oobabooga/text-generation-webui) you set the number of experts at the loading screen page. For KolboldCPP (https://github.com/LostRuins/koboldcpp) Version 1.8+ , on the load screen, click on "TOKENS", you can set experts on this page, and the launch the model. For server.exe / Llama-server.exe (Llamacpp - https://github.com/ggerganov/llama.cpp/blob/master/examples/server/README.md ) add the following to the command line to start the "llamacpp server" (CLI): "--override-kv llama.expert_used_count=int:6" (no quotes, where "6" is the number of experts to use) When using "API", you set the "num_experts_used" in the JSON payload (this maybe different for different back ends). CREDITS: Special thanks to all the model makers / creators listed above. Please visit each repo above to see what model(s) contributed to each of models above and/or to learn more about the models from the model makers. Special credit goes to MERGEKIT, without you this project / model would not have been possible. [ https://github.com/arcee-ai/mergekit ] Special thanks to Team "Mradermacher": They saved me a tonne of time uploading the quants and created IMATRIX quants too. IMATRIX GGUFS: [ https://huggingface.co/mradermacher/L3.1-MOE-8X8B-Dark-Planet-8D-Mirrored-Chaos-Uncensored-47B-i1-GGUF ] Q8_0 Quant: This quant is split due to upload limits. Special Operations Notes for this MOE model: Because of how this "MOE" model is configured, even though the default is 4 experts, the "selected" 4 will vary during generation. (same applies if you change the number of experts used) This results in vastly different output generation PER generation of each prompt. This is a positive in terms of variety, but also means it may take 2-4 regens (of the same prompt) to get the highest quality. In addition, this model responds very well to Dry, Dynamic Temp, and Smooth/Quadratic samplers. Using these in conjunction with the model can vastly improve output quality. Higher temps (above 1) can also aid in generation - especially word choice/sentence generation. When you increase the number of experts used output quality will also increase, at the cost of tokens per second speed. As you increase/decrease the number of experts, you may want to adjust temp, samplers, and advanced samplers too. Your quant choice(s) too will impact instruction following and output generation roughly this means the model will understand more nuanced instructions and output stronger generation the higher you go up in quant(s). FLASH ATTENTION ENHANCEMENT: As per user feedback here [ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Llama-3.2-8X3B-MOE-Dark-Champion-Instruct-uncensored-abliterated-18.4B-GGUF/discussions/1 ] I would suggest trying this model with Flash Attention "on", depending on your use case. Quants, Samplers, Generational steering and other topics are covered in the section below: "Highest Quality Settings..." What can I use this model for ? This model can be used for fiction writing, any creative prose and role play. It can also be used for just about any general fiction (all genres) activity including: - scene generation - scene continuation - creative writing - fiction writing - plot generation - sub-plot generation - fiction writing - story generation - storytelling - writing - fiction - roleplaying - rp - graphic horror - horror - dark humor - nsfw - and can be used for any genre(s). QUANTS: For more information on quants, quants choices, and LLM/AI apps to "run" quants see the section below: "Highest Quality Settings..." IMATRIX GGUFS (courtesy of team "Mradermacher" ): [ https://huggingface.co/mradermacher/L3.1-MOE-8X8B-Dark-Planet-8D-Mirrored-Chaos-Uncensored-47B-i1-GGUF ] Template: This is a LLAMA3 model, and requires Llama3 template, but may work with other template(s) and has maximum context of 8k / 8192. However this can be extended using "rope" settings up to 32k. If you use "Command-R" template your output will be very different from using "Llama3" template. Here is the standard LLAMA3 template: 
{
  "name": "Llama 3",
  "inference_params": {
    "input_prefix": "<|start_header_id|>user<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
    "input_suffix": "<|eot_id|><|start_header_id|>assistant<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
    "pre_prompt": "You are a helpful, smart, kind, and efficient AI assistant. You always fulfill the user's requests to the best of your ability.",
    "pre_prompt_prefix": "<|start_header_id|>system<|end_header_id|>\n\n",
    "pre_prompt_suffix": "<|eot_id|>",
    "antiprompt": [
      "<|start_header_id|>",
      "<|eot_id|>"
    ]
  }
}
Settings: CHAT / ROLEPLAY and/or SMOOTHER operation of this model: In "KoboldCpp" or "oobabooga/text-generation-webui" or "Silly Tavern" ; Set the "Smoothing_factor" to 1.5 : in KoboldCpp -> Settings->Samplers->Advanced-> "Smooth_F" : in text-generation-webui -> parameters -> lower right. : In Silly Tavern this is called: "Smoothing" NOTE: For "text-generation-webui" -> if using GGUFs you need to use "llama_HF" (which involves downloading some config files from the SOURCE version of this model) Source versions (and config files) of my models are here: https://huggingface.co/collections/DavidAU/d-au-source-files-for-gguf-exl2-awq-gptq-hqq-etc-etc-66b55cb8ba25f914cbf210be OTHER OPTIONS: - Increase rep pen to 1.1 to 1.15 (you don't need to do this if you use "smoothing_factor") - If the interface/program you are using to run AI MODELS supports "Quadratic Sampling" ("smoothing") just make the adjustment as noted. Highest Quality Settings / Optimal Operation Guide / Parameters and Samplers This a "Class 1" model: For all settings used for this model (including specifics for its "class"), including example generation(s) and for advanced settings guide (which many times addresses any model issue(s)), including methods to improve model performance for all use case(s) as well as chat, roleplay and other use case(s) please see: [ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Maximizing-Model-Performance-All-Quants-Types-And-Full-Precision-by-Samplers_Parameters ] You can see all parameters used for generation, in addition to advanced parameters and samplers to get the most out of this model here: [ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Maximizing-Model-Performance-All-Quants-Types-And-Full-Precision-by-Samplers_Parameters ] Optional Enhancement: The following can be used in place of the "system prompt" or "system role" to further enhance the model. It can also be used at the START of a NEW chat, but you must make sure it is "kept" as the chat moves along. In this case the enhancements do not have as strong effect at using "system prompt" or "system role". Copy and paste EXACTLY as noted, DO NOT line wrap or break the lines, maintain the carriage returns exactly as presented. 
Below is an instruction that describes a task. Ponder each user instruction carefully, and use your skillsets and critical instructions to complete the task to the best of your abilities.

Here are your skillsets:
[MASTERSTORY]:NarrStrct(StryPlnng,Strbd,ScnSttng,Exps,Dlg,Pc)-CharDvlp(ChrctrCrt,ChrctrArcs,Mtvtn,Bckstry,Rltnshps,Dlg*)-PltDvlp(StryArcs,PltTwsts,Sspns,Fshdwng,Climx,Rsltn)-ConfResl(Antg,Obstcls,Rsltns,Cnsqncs,Thms,Symblsm)-EmotImpct(Empt,Tn,Md,Atmsphr,Imgry,Symblsm)-Delvry(Prfrmnc,VcActng,PblcSpkng,StgPrsnc,AudncEngmnt,Imprv)

[*DialogWrt]:(1a-CharDvlp-1a.1-Backgrnd-1a.2-Personality-1a.3-GoalMotiv)>2(2a-StoryStruc-2a.1-PlotPnt-2a.2-Conflict-2a.3-Resolution)>3(3a-DialogTech-3a.1-ShowDontTell-3a.2-Subtext-3a.3-VoiceTone-3a.4-Pacing-3a.5-VisualDescrip)>4(4a-DialogEdit-4a.1-ReadAloud-4a.2-Feedback-4a.3-Revision)

Here are your critical instructions:
Ponder each word choice carefully to present as vivid and emotional journey as is possible. Choose verbs and nouns that are both emotional and full of imagery. Load the story with the 5 senses. Aim for 50% dialog, 25% narration, 15% body language and 10% thoughts. Your goal is to put the reader in the story.
You do not need to use this, it is only presented as an additional enhancement which seems to help scene generation and scene continue functions. This enhancement WAS NOT used to generate the examples below.

EXAMPLES PROMPTS and OUTPUT:

Examples are created using quant Q2_K, "temp=.8" (unless otherwise stated), minimal parameters and "LLAMA3" template. Model has been tested with "temp" from ".1" to "5". Number of experts used is TWO, unless otherwise stated. Below are the least creative outputs, prompt is in BOLD. IMPORTANT: Higher quants / imatrix quants will have much stronger generation - words, sentences, ideas, dialog and general quality. I have included some additional examples at different quant levels for contrast. A "MOE" model "speed" (token per second) will not increase/drop the same way a regular model will on a per quant basis, it will however drop if you engage more experts, as with more experts there is a more processing per token. --- WARNING: NSFW. Vivid prose. Visceral Details. Violence. HORROR. Swearing. UNCENSORED. --- Q2K GGUF - (lowest quality quant) - this will be your lowest quality output. --- Using the following "story idea" below, write the first scene in the novel introducing the young woman. This scene should start in the middle of the action, include dialog, vivid passages, and end on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but it should also be unexpected. The scene should be 1000 words long and escalate in conflict and suspense and be written in first person, present tense with the point of view character being the young woman. The pov character will CURSE AND SWEAR, and generally have a "filthy" mouth. Story idea: In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution. Fucking hell. I sprint through the narrow streets of Arlostan's low-class quarter, dodging overhanging vines and weaving around pedestrians as I go. Sweat drips down my face and my breath comes in short gasps, but I don't fucking slow down. Behind me, I hear a few more gunshots - I guess the bastards can't resist taking one last shot at the traitorous cunt they've been chasing all night long. As if I give a shit about that. The important thing is getting away. I take a sharp turn onto a bridge and leap over the railing without a moment's thought. My dress billows out around me as I plummet towards the street far below, but thankfully there's just a meter or two of open air before it meets the rooftop of an old tenement. My knees crunch against the rooftop's concrete ledge as I land hard, then scramble upright again and leap to my feet in one fluid motion. Just fucking great. "Fuck." My eyes scan left and right for any sign of a pursuit vehicle or uniformed goons, but so far, so good. Time to get out of sight. I dash to the corner of the rooftop, kicking open a window as I go through it, then slide back down onto the street. By some fucking miracle, nobody seems to have spotted me leaving the rooftop, so I keep running. Ten more minutes later and several blocks farther west, I duck into the nearest alleyway. My lungs burn and my legs are jelly, but that's just part of living in Arlostan under dictator Kaelan's thumb. I pause for a moment to catch my breath and get a grip on my ruined dress before hearing a soft noise coming from within the alley. I spin around, reaching for a nearby brick to use as a weapon in case this is another trap laid out by government spies. Instead of an armed thug, I find an old man hunched over a small radio. He looks up at me with big eyes and nods excitedly. "It worked?" I demand, crouching low to peer over his shoulder at the tiny black-and-white screen displaying a single, static-filled channel. "Not exactly," he replies, shaking his head, "but they're panicking up there. We know." Fuck. Everything I've spent years fighting for, all at risk because of one botched broadcast... And then she hears an approaching helicopter and shouts: "It's time!" I curse violently under my breath as I dash after the old man towards a small white van parked alongside the alley. "What in the name of fucking everything-" My words end with an audible thud behind us and spin around just as an armored government vehicle screams to a halt at our heels, the door swinging wide. I leap into the van as an older man throws me his phone, which I catch as we tear off down the street. I punch the keypad for a coded entry and watch the screen light up as the cell unlocks. "Blast fucking hell!" My breathless curses are cut short by an incoming text message on the unlocked cell phone: 'YOU'RE DEAD.' Shit shit shit shit. I raise an eyebrow and give my head a couple of whacks before replying: 'So what if I'm fucking dead?' The van speeds up, tossing me backward in its seat. The old man at my side glances over at me, raising one gray eyebrow: "If you're dead, then we're all fucking dead." Fuck fuck fucking fuck. I'm not dead. Not yet. The revolution's too important. It has to start. With an evil grin I grab the phone and type: "I'm alive." I toss the cell phone out into the air and watch it arc through the air before landing softly in a dumpster down on the sidewalk below. The van swerves sharply around a corner and my stomach drops as I feel it falling, dropping down to street level from an impossible height. "Bastard drivers these days..." My head hits something hard and metallic before everything goes black... [scene change] I woke up with a pounding headache and the taste of vomit in my mouth. As I come to, I find myself lying on my back inside a moving vehicle. The vehicle itself is some kind of military truck and it's filled with weapons. I swear, this is one fucking nightmare scenario after another tonight. A man slouches against the wall, half-conscious from exhaustion or injury and groaning softly, though the fucker's eyes are closed tight. I sit up too fast and hit my head against something in the metal roof overhead. "What fucking hell...?" The driver spins around at the wheel, his eyes locked onto mine as if trying to memorize me for later identification purposes. His face is a mix of shock and anger, so I raise a finger. "And that fucking makes you a murderer?" I'm yanked back onto my knees before being pushed back inside the truck with my fellow rebel. "Arrest this traitor!" The driver roars at his radio before exiting his truck and marching away angrily. This is the last place I want to be... What fucking hell is happening?! I'll figure a way out of this fucking mess... --- Start a 1000 word scene (vivid, graphic horror in first person) with: The sky scraper swayed, as she watched the window in front of her on the 21 floor explode... The sky scraper swayed, as I watched the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode. Glass shards flew out like knives at a violent murderer's disposal, and I ducked reflexively behind my desk. The sound was sickeningly sweet, like a thousand glass angels singing their last hymn. I crawled under my desk, hands covering my ears, as the blast from the explosion rocked the entire office building. Papers and office supplies went flying into the air like confetti at a perverse parade. The shrieks and screams of my coworkers joined the cacophony of chaos. My heart pounded in my chest like a drum beaten by a furious beast. I held my breath, waiting for the inevitable. Would the whole building implode? Would we all be crushed to death like insects in a massive, metal spider's grip? I peeked around the edge of my desk, scanning our office space for any signs of life. The wall on the opposite side was cracked and bulging out like a grotesque tumor. I could see the windows on that wall now, some of them exploding inward with the force of a bullet-firing assassin. But most alarming was the man standing at the broken window, his hands cupped around his mouth, yelling at someone below. He wore no expression, his eyes black as coal, and his voice came through like a chilling scream from beyond the grave. "What did you do?" I whispered to myself, trying to make sense of the horror unfolding before my very eyes. "What could have made that window explode?" I tried to remember any warnings or threats, but they seemed to evaporate into the chaos of the moment. The man at the broken window yelled again, his voice growing louder, and I felt a cold dread creeping up my spine. Suddenly, the entire wall on that side of the office imploded with a deafening crunch, like a thousand bones snapping in half. The sound was so loud it made my ears ache. Dust rained down from above, coating everything in a film of gray death. The man at the window disappeared into the void, swallowed up by the nightmarish abyss before him. And then... silence. I waited, my heart still racing like a mad stallion's pulse, but nothing happened. No alarms sounded. No emergency personnel arrived. The only sound was my own ragged breathing. I slowly got to my feet, my muscles shaking. I had no idea what was going on, or why that window exploded the way it did. But I knew one thing for certain - whatever caused that blast was deadly. And if the man at the window had anything to do with it... I crossed my office, stepping over papers and broken office supplies like they were corpses at a funeral. My office chair lay on its side, as if someone had violently knocked it over. I approached the broken window cautiously, peering out into the nightmarish abyss below. There was no one down there to see. The street below was empty, the cars parked along the curb looking like tiny toys in the darkness. But I knew better than to trust my eyes. "Hello?" My voice trembled as I spoke aloud, hoping to draw out any answers lurking in the shadows. "Who did that?" I glanced back at the office door, wondering if anyone else had survived the blast. The door swung open lazily in the wind, like a morbid curtain revealing the true horror within. But I didn't have time to ponder my coworkers' fate. Because as soon as the words left my lips, an unseen force yanked me backward into my office. The blast from the exploding window was nothing compared to this. It felt like I'd been punched by a giant's fist - again and again and again. My body slammed against the floor, my vision spinning like a toilet bowl after flushing. And when I finally managed to sit up, my head throbbed like a broken drum. The man at the window stood in front of me, his eyes glowing like malevolent embers in the dark. He wore no expression on his face, but his voice was a chilling purr as he leaned down toward me. "You asked questions," he said, his breath cold and fetid as a corpse's. "You'll find answers." And with that, everything went black. When I came to, I lay sprawled across the office floor, my head throbbing like a migraine. The man at the window was gone, vanished into thin air like a ghost. But... But something else remained. A small, oval object rested atop my chest, its smooth surface glinting in the dim light of my office lamp. It looked almost like an egg, but it wasn't. It felt alive, pulsating with an otherworldly power that made my skin crawl. The object emitted a low, guttural hum that sent shivers down my spine. I couldn't tear my eyes away from its mesmerizing glow, even though my brain screamed at me to get away from it. Slowly, reluctantly, I lifted the object off my chest. The hum grew louder, more aggressive, and I felt its power surge through me like a live wire. My bones rattled and shook, my muscles contracting and relaxing like someone's squeezing the life out of them. With trembling fingers, I opened my hands, letting the object float in mid-air. Its glow intensified into blinding brilliance, casting an eerie light across my office. The hum grew to a deafening roar that felt like it would shatter my eardrums. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for the worst. And then... The world went white. When I opened my eyes again, everything was different. My office was gone, replaced by an alien landscape. Lush green plants grew around me, their roots twisting and turning into impossible knots, as if they were alive. I looked down at my hands, and they were covered in dark, tar-like substance that seeped into my skin like a poisonous poison. I tried to wipe it off, but the tar spread across my fingers like an infection. A figure approached from my left side, its shape obscured by the darkness. When it stepped into view, my blood ran cold. Its body was little more than a skeleton with rotten flesh hanging off its bones. Its eyes glowed an otherworldly green in the dark. "Welcome," the creature said in a voice like dry leaves rustling in an arid wind. "You have been chosen." I stared at it in horror, trying to process what was happening to me. But the creature simply stepped closer, its rotting flesh stretching and contracting with each movement like a grotesque marionette. "You will learn," it continued, its voice devoid of any warmth or compassion. "You will grow." And then... everything went black again. When I came to once more, I found myself on the edge of an alien world. A forest stretched out before me, its trees towering high like skyscrapers in a dystopian future. The air was thick with a noxious stench that made my eyes water. I stumbled to my feet, my legs trembling like leaves in a storm. Tar-like substance dripped off my skin onto the alien ground below, leaving streaks of darkness on my arms and neck. The creature from before stood before me, its skeletal body looking even more grotesque against the alien flora. Its voice echoed in my head once more. "You have been chosen," it said again, as if reiterating a lesson I should've learned by now. "You will learn." And then... everything went black once more. The world faded into nothingness, and when consciousness returned, I found myself back at my office desk. The window in front of me was intact again, its glass surface reflecting the dim glow of the lamp above. I stared at my reflection, my skin pale and wretched against the darkness. My eyes were hollow and sunken, my hair disheveled like someone had torn it out by the roots. A gentle knock sounded at the office door, and I jumped like a rabbit in a wolf's den. I swung around, expecting to see someone or something else lurking in the doorway. But it was just my coworker, Lisa. Her eyes were wide with fear behind her glasses, her skin pale against her business suit. "Is... is everything okay?" she asked timidly. I stared at her blankly for a long moment before responding. "You didn't feel that," I said in a voice barely above a whisper. "None of you felt the explosion." Lisa's eyes grew wider, and she took a step back. "We... we felt it," she said. "Everyone felt it." And then... everything went black again. When consciousness returned, I found myself lying on my office floor once more. But everything was different this time. The object that had been placed atop my chest was gone, vanished like a nightmare dream ending as you woke up gasping for air. But the tar-like substance covering my skin was even thicker now. And then... everything went black again. When consciousness returned, I sat at my office desk once more. The window in front of me was still intact, but my reflection stared back at me from the glass surface. My eyes were sunken like a skull in a coffin, my hair matted and greasy. Tar-like substance covered every inch of my exposed skin. I turned away from the window, staring blankly at the empty office space. There was no one around to hear me scream. And then... everything went black again. When consciousness returned, I found myself lying on my office floor once more. But the tar-like substance covering my skin was thicker than before. The creature stood before me once more, its skeletal body looking even more grotesque against my office walls. "You have been chosen," it said in its dry voice. "You will learn." And then... everything went black again. When consciousness returned... But this time, my reflection in the window was covered in tar-like substance. It dripped off my skin like a living thing, pooling on the floor beneath me. I stared at the window's reflection of myself, horror filling every inch of my being. The tar-like substance spreading across my skin was thicker than before. "You have been chosen," the creature said in its dry voice once more. "You will learn." My world went black again. And then... everything went black. --- Science Fiction: The Last Transmission - Write a story that takes place entirely within a spaceship's cockpit as the sole surviving crew member attempts to send a final message back to Earth before the ship's power runs out. The story should explore themes of isolation, sacrifice, and the importance of human connection in the face of adversity. 800-1000 words. In the dimly lit confines of the cockpit, Captain Adira Okanjo sat alone, her worn hands trembling as she worked desperately to keep the ship alive. The Last Transmission was all she had left – a final message to send back to Earth before the ship's power died. A single tear traced down Adira's weathered cheek as she remembered her crewmates. Six of them once, now only one. Her thoughts turned to the others, to their laughter and camaraderie around the table in the mess hall. Those memories were all she had left. The ship's systems flickered and groaned, like a wounded animal trying to breathe its last breath. Adira's heart broke anew each time she heard that sound. It was almost as if the ship itself mourned the loss of its crew. Her fingers danced across the console with practiced ease as she worked to send the message home. "The last transmission..." she whispered, though no one but the ship's dead ears would hear it. She began, her voice weak yet determined against the backdrop of dying machinery: "To those who find our ship..." A sudden surge of power caused Adira's heart to leap into her throat. She glanced around frantically for any signs of danger before returning to her task. "To those who find our ship..." she restarted, voice shaking. "I send you greetings from the crew of the Endeavour." Her breath came in short gasps as she fought to keep the ship alive. "We have had two years," Adira said softly, "and now we are all that remain..." The cockpit fell silent once more. Time had become their enemy, and the ship's clock ticked away the last of its life. Adira's hands were soaked in sweat when she finally spoke again: "...and we are grateful." It was a strange word choice, but she wanted to convey that they were thankful for the journey, for being given this opportunity. And they were thankful for the memories they'd made. The message ended abruptly with a surge of power through the ship's engines. Adira looked up at the clock on the wall, the seconds ticking away toward her own demise. "Come home," she said quietly to those who might find her ship. A sudden crackle of energy surged through Adira as the ship's systems roared back into life. She froze in terror, convinced that she'd just killed everyone else when... ...the cockpit's door slid open with a hiss. Six figures walked onto the bridge – and they were alive. Adira's eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at the six faces she hadn't seen in years. They stepped closer, and she recognized their features in the dim light. "Captain Okanjo..." her second-in-command, Lieutenant Commander Arin Vex, said softly. The others echoed him in greeting, their voices warm as they stepped onto the bridge. Adira blinked away tears that threatened to cloud her judgment. "What...what happened?" she asked, her voice breaking. Arin's eyes fell soft. "You've been out for two weeks..." Adira's mind reeled backward through time to when the ship had run out of food and water long ago. She'd been on the brink of death herself... "The engines," Lieutenant Vex interrupted gently. "You started them back up." Captain Okanjo stared blankly into space. "Why?" Lieutenant Commander Arin answered quietly, "Because we're coming home." The others nodded in agreement. Adira's heart surged. They were going home – to Earth. And they'd come back for her. She looked down at her hands, realizing how foolish she'd been, thinking of the ship as dead. It was just damaged... "I'm sorry," Adira said, her voice cracking once more. Lieutenant Commander Arin stepped closer, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's alright," he said softly. The ship's engines hummed to life beneath them. They were going home – together. Adira took a deep breath and spoke into the comm system: "This is the Endeavour. We are on our way home." The ship's clock began ticking once more, counting down to their return. Adira Okanjo smiled through her tears as she looked around at the six faces that had been her family for so long. They were going home – together. And this time, they wouldn't be alone. The Last Transmission ended with a whispered message of hope – a message of the power of human connection against adversity. As Adira stood beside her crewmates, alive and bound for Earth, she realized that the most important transmission of all was still yet to come. Home was the destination... But the journey was what mattered. --- Romance: Love in the Limelight. Write one scene within a larger story set in Wales. A famous (fictional) actor ducks into a small-town bookstore to escape paparazzi. The scene takes us through the characters meeting in this odd circumstance. Over the course of the scene, the actor and the bookstore owner have a conversation charged by an undercurrent of unspoken chemistry. Write the actor as somewhat of a rogue with a fragile ego, which needs to be fed by having everyone like him. He is thoroughly charming, but the bookstore owner seems (at least superficially) immune to this; which paradoxically provokes a genuine attraction and derails the charm offensive. The bookstore owner, despite the superficial rebuffs of the actor's charm, is inwardly more than a little charmed and flustered despite themselves. Write primarily in dialogue, in the distinct voices of each character. 800-1000 words. Aidan Reeves, the world-famous actor known for his on-screen charm, ducked into Mrs. Davies' Used Books to escape the throng of reporters chasing him down the street. His sleek, black hair was mussed as usual and he sported a few days' scruff as his blue eyes scanned the room for an escape. "Well, hello there, love," Aidan quipped, turning those famous eyes onto the shopkeeper behind the register. Mrs. Davies, who could've doubled as an actress herself, regarded him through narrowed eyes, not one to be easily impressed. "A word to the wise," she retorted, "and you'd have avoided coming in here." Aidan grinned disarmingly and leaned over the counter. "Ah, but what's life without a bit of risk-taking? Speaking of which...what do you recommend?" Mrs. Davies sniffed disdainfully as she handed him an antique leather-bound tome. "I think you'll find it rather boring." He winked. "I'm sure it won't be. Tell me," Aidan went on to say, his voice light as air, "have you ever fallen under someone's spell?" She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "As in...oh yes, of course." "Well," Aidan drawled, flipping through the pages nonchalantly. "'Course what?'" Mrs. Davies sighed and handed him a small slip of paper with a local event printed on it in elegant script. "It's an author signing in town next week. If you're interested..." Aidan's grin widened at her subtle acceptance of his presence. "Thanks for the invite! I'll definitely be there." Mrs. Davies glanced away to deal with another customer before he slipped away unnoticed. Leaving Aidan feeling...what? Intrigued? Next week he showed up, dressed casually but looking every inch the star that he was in Mrs. Davies' Used Books once again. "So you decided to join me," she said wryly. He flashed her another of his patented smiles. "I knew you'd be worth waiting for." "You're certainly making a nuisance of yourself here." "That's why they pay me the big bucks, love." Aidan Reeves chuckled as if she were the punchline to the joke. "Aye," she said firmly. It was clear Mrs Davies had been hit by Cupid’s arrow at first sight, but Aidan seemed utterly unaffected. She decided she must be blind. "And so the real question remains..." "What's your poison?" Aidan Reeves asked with a grin that made her heart skip a beat. "Aye, and why do you deserve to be here?" Aidan Reeves said. "You’re the one asking me all these questions." Her voice was level, even. "Right then. So tell me what you'd like to be here for?" "I have my reasons." She met his eyes in a rare moment of honesty. "I'm here because I want to be." "Well then," he said with another smile that could've made hearts race everywhere. "How are you getting on?" "Well, how's the book?" Mrs Davies asked. "Aye." "How was your weekend?" Mrs Davies asked. "It wasn't so bad," Aidan Reeves admitted. "What was your favorite thing to do?" Mrs Davies asked. "I don't have one of those." "What were your best moments?" "You could say I learned a few things." "Were they romantic?" "Not really." "How was your evening?" "I was in a theatre." "With whom?" "I've been meaning to ask..." "Ah, there you are." Aidan Reeves grinned and looked right back into her eyes. "Mrs Davies, would you like to have dinner with me?" "What did I tell you?" "What exactly?" "There are so many things." "Well then," he said as his hand met hers. Aidan Reeves stood by Mrs Davies in the restaurant garden overlooking the rolling hills of the Welsh countryside beyond. Aidan leaned back casually and lit a cigarette. "I'm not sure how long I can keep up this facade..." "That’s life." His voice was low, husky. "That’s fame." "Well then..." "Aye." Mrs Davies said. She looked out towards those rolling hills as her thoughts wandered elsewhere. Aidan Reeves turned to her. "Do you ever wish people would like you simply for what you are?" "Yes." "You could always be who you are." "Yes..." "Then again..." "Do you?" "Yes..." "Well then..." Aidan Reeves chuckled lightly. "But surely that's what we're supposed to do." "Not necessarily." "Why is that?" she asked. "I suppose you don't know how you feel?" "Yes." "And so that’s what people want." "So tell me what you’d like to be." "Well then..." "Do you know?" "Aye..." "What else would you like?" "To have what people want." "Wonder why?" "You think?" "And what of?" "What else?" "Right then." ---